Leather
by renisanz
Summary: Ronon finds something unexpected while on an recreational trading mission.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** Leather - Pt. 1  
**AUTHOR:** renisanz  
**SUMMARY:** Ronon finds something unexpected while on an recreational trading mission. One-shot.  
**CATEGORY:** general  
**RATING:** PG  
**WORDS:** 1,244  
**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own 'em, but they're fun to play. Seraih is all mine, though.  
**NOTES:** Written for Challenge #20: Leather at satedanfire. No spoilers. Events of the story occur sometime before _Sateda_.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ronon was being followed.

He had sensed it for a while.

Teyla had asked him to accompany her on a recreational trading mission. 'Shopping' as the 'Lanteans called it. As much as he liked spending time with Teyla, he wasn't keen on the idea of going from booth to booth, haggling over prices. He truly respected and admired Teyla's skills as leader and negotiator, but sometimes. . .she just used too many words. The way he saw it, the vendor could take or leave her offer and then she should move on.

That was what he was thinking when he had wondered away from her, mumbling that he was going to find something to eat. The smell of roast _bisteh_-on-a-stick was calling to him. He peered down the pathway and spotted his prize a few booths down. He would still be able to keep an eye on Teyla from the distance, so he walked off. He asked her if she wanted anything, but she waved him away, distracted. She really had her eye on that fabric but was set not to pay too much for it.

With a parting shrug he made his way through the market.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ronon was growing weary of this game. He was especially peeved that he had to rush and finish his _bisteh_ so he would better be able to face his pursuer. Purposefully, he wove his way through the marketplace until the crowds thinned out. There was virtually no one on the street in this part of the town, now. No one to hear the commotion of the struggle, not that he anticipated much of one. Deftly, he cut around a corner into a narrow alley and pressed his back to the wall, waiting. The long shadows cast by the evening sun offered the perfect cover for his large form.

Finally, a slim figure appeared before the threshold of the alley. He saw them stop, and look around, as if uncertain of where he had gone. They had their back facing the alley, completely oblivious to his presence. He smirked. Whoever he was, he wasn't very good at stealth. Too bad for 'em.

In one smooth motion, Ronon stepped from the concealment of the shadows and grabbed the stalker. They seemed to sense his presence at the last moment, for they turned slightly as he reached for the back of their hooded shroud. There was a slight gasp and a rustle of papers as Ronon pressed the slight figure against the wall. He was taken aback as wide blue eyes framed in thick brown lashes stared back at him.

A girl.

_Great._

"Why are you following me?" He growled.

She just blinked up at him. She opened her mouth but no words came out. She was scared.

Good.

"Are you _Genii_?"

"N-no," she stammered, finally found her voice. She seemed confused by the question.

"Who are you?" Ronon pressed.

"I'm sorry," she gasped, her hand pulling futilely at his wrists. "I just. . .my designs. . . ."

Ronon followed her gaze down to the cobbled street of the alleyway. Strewn at their feet were pieces of paper. Drawings.

He released his right hand's hold on her and moved it to cover the handle of his gun, before removing his other hand to free her completely from his hold. She immediately bent down to retrieve her papers, and he watched her with a mix of wariness and curiosity.

Ronon was pretty sure that she wasn't a threat, but there was the slim possibility that she was bait of some kind—a means to distract him. For what, he had not idea. The bad guys would usually just ambush him, or his team. Why go through all this artifice?

"Are you gonna tell who you are?" He asked once more.

She had finished collecting all her papers, save for one, Ronon noticed the tip of his shoe touched. Keeping his eye on her, he bend down to pick it up, getting his first good look at one of her 'designs.' Drawn on the page was a male figure dressed in a tailored, button-down vest. Beside the figure was an up-close drawing of an arm with a sleeve featuring an intricate combination of clasps and buckles.

"I am Seraih."

Ronon tore his gaze away from the worn page to gaze down at her. She looked a bit older now. Not a girl, but not quite a woman.

"How old are you?" The question left his lips before he could reconsider.

"I will be nineteen in three lunar cycles."

Ronon nodded, cocking his eyebrow. He spared a glance down at her form. She was slim, but she had just the right amount of curves in the places that mattered. Definitely more woman than girl.

He looked down at the drawing once more. He liked the design. He wasn't one to acquire many material possessions in the way of wardrobe, but his years as a Runner made the decision for him no choice in the matter anyway. However, the few garments he did own tended to get bloodied and shot up on a pretty regular basis. Now that he had settled in Atlantis for the time being, he could focus on replacing a few things.

"Do you make these?" he asked, genuinely intrigued.

He watched as a blush tinted the olive skin of her cheeks and freckled nose. Her lashes dipped down to the page in his hand. Her fingers tightened around the bundle of pages she held to her chest. "Yes," she said with more confidence now. "I. . . uhm. . ."

Ronon relaxed the tension in his stance just a little and waited for her to continue.

"That is why I was following you," she sighed. "I saw you at the booth getting _bisteh_. . . I saw you, and your form fits perfectly. I wanted to study you more, but I did not know how to ask. So I just followed you."

"You could have gotten yourself killed," Ronon stated.

She bit her lip at the admonishment. "Yes, I realize that now. I had not been inspired in so long. Then I saw you, and you were new here. . . I just got lost, I suppose."

Ronon allowed only a shadow of a smile at the compliment. As strange as this conversation was, he found it was nice to be admired for something other than his skills as a Satedan warrior. And this girl was obviously very talented.

"You're weird, you know." He felt he should state it, just to make it clear, in case she didn't know.

"Yes," she agreed. Absently, she pulled back the hood that to reveal wavy, dark brown hair cropped close to her head. "My aunt fears that I will never marry."

Ronon sensed the weightiness of the statement in her tone. This young woman was definitely unique in more ways than one.

He cleared his throat and asked, "You got a booth or something somewhere with some of this stuff?" He turned the page toward her and gestured at the buckle-accented sleeve.

Seraih smiled for the first time, taking the page from him. She seemed to know what was implied by the question. He stood still as she eyes roved over his form, taking it in. "I have something especially in mind for you," she said as her azure eyes met his once more. Her smile faltered, "That is, if you do not mind leather?"

He shrugged then gestured for her to lead the way.

TBC ?

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: Her name is pronounced "sə'rī"

Omg, I actually managed to write something non-romantic and non-R/K. What a feat. Not as hard as I thought, even though I did consider how I could work Jen in somehow. I tried to keep this as concise as possible. Hope y'all like it and lemme know what you think (and if it should be continued).


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE:** Leather – Pt. 2  
**AUTHOR:** renisanz  
**SUMMARY:** Ronon finds something unexpected while on an recreational trading mission.  
**CATEGORY:** general  
**RATING:** PG (for mutual possibly suggestive appraisal between characters of the opposite sex), i.e. he/she was totally checkin' her/him out.  
**WORDS:** 1,434  
**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own 'em, but they're fun to play. Seraih is all mine, though.  
**NOTES:** A continuation of the fic written for Challenge #20: Leather at satedan fire. No spoilers. Events of the story occur some time before _Sateda_.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Ronon spotted his petite Athosian companion on the way back into town. He stopped briefly to tell Teyla where he was going. She greeted Seraih warmly enough, but Ronon didn't miss the Teyla's appraising look followed by the arch of a single, questioning brow over dark brown eyes while Seraih's attention was elsewhere.

Ronon narrowed his eyes at Teyla. Of course she had noticed that Seraih was quite attractive, and Teyla probably wondered how he'd come across her in the first place. And Seraih was more than happy to provide Teyla with the information about where they were headed.

"You done shopping?" said quickly before Seraih could say any more. He nodded at the bulging bag slung across Teyla's shoulder.

"For the moment," she replied as she adjusted the weight of her bag to hang more securely against her hip. "There are a quite a few more things that I must acquire, but I thought it best to retire for the day. I will see you at the inn later?" she inquired, the corner of her more curling slightly.

"Yeah. Let's go." Ronon gestured for Seraih to lead the way once more, eager to get away from the significant look that Teyla was giving him.

. . . . .

Ronon would have liked it if the walk back into the center of town were quiet as well as uneventful, but Seraih was proving to be a curious and rather talkative young woman.

"So. . .you are obviously not from this world—"

"Obviously?" Ronon questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Are you?" She countered, looking up at him expectantly as they walked.

Ronon figured it was best to simply answer her. "No."

She gave a knowing nod and smiled unexpectedly. "Where are you from?"

Ronon's gazed flicked down to Seraih and her innocent blue eyes and then back to the path ahead as he thought of his dead and desolate homeworld. _Sateda._ "Doesn't matter," he mumbled, clearing his throat. "It's gone," he added, thinking it better not to leave anything to question.

"Oh," she said after a moment, seeming to take the hint. She looked away from him as she brushed an errant brown curl behind her ear.

Seraih's world had not been touched by the wraith in some time, mostly likely not in her lifetime. With the recent mass awakening, however, Ronon knew that could change very soon.

"My parents were culled when was I merely three years old," she said in a quiet voice. "I have no memory of them." There was a bittersweet smile as she continued, "My aunt often tells me I am just like my mother. However, it's usually when I have frustrated her in some way."

"Like when I cut off my hair," she said more to herself now, and Ronon glanced over to see her absently toying with a short, dark brown tendril near the nape of her neck.

. . . . .

Seraih's workshop was located down an alley just out of the way of the main flow of traffic to the marketplace. A flower vendor's booth was stationed outside the front of the building. Seraih stopped at the booth to buy a bouquet of sweet-smelling blossoms. She chatted briefly with the lean, blond young man with whose dark eyes studied Ronon with a measured wariness.

Ronon knew that look. The young man didn't trust him. Ronon stood a non-intimidating distance away from them, but he could tell by his body language and the fragments of whispered phrases that he was probably trying to talk some sense into Seraih about the dangers of picking up strange offworlders on the back alleys of the marketplace. _Someone should_, Ronon mused.

Seraih seemed a more than a little displeased and embarrassed by the man's observations. She turned to walk away from him, and the young man made to catch Seraih's arm, but he stopped short, as Seraih whirled around to face him once again. "I will be fine, Andri," Ronon heard her say, as she placed a calming hand on the man's forearm.

Andri's jaw was working as if he wanted to say more. His neck flushed with a bit of exasperation and. . . something else, but he simply nodded.

. . . . .

"So why'd you cut your hair?" Ronon asked as he shrugged off his jacket, taking in the spacious room as he did so. Reams of colorful fabric lined the walls and garments hung on racks arranged in near rows in near the center of the room. He would have to bring Teyla back here.

Seraih turned from the action of hanging her cloak on a hook beside the door and looked confused for a moment as her hand reached up to her recently shorn locks. Then a look of recollection crossed her features as she remembered her earlier ramblings.

"It used to be long, right?" he prompted. He could tell by the way she fingered her curls so often, like she was still getting used to them.

"I. . . uh. . .yes." She looked away from Ronon, as she set her drawing book onto the tabletop to her left, against the same wall the door. Even with her head tipped, Ronon could see that she was blushing. As Seraih knelt down to open a large chest on the floor in front of her, he admired the flattering cut of her fitted, rust-colored tunic and dark brown leggings that accentuated the shapely legs beneath.

Ronon thought she wasn't going to answer as he watched her rummage through the contents of the chest. Then he began to regret asking in the first place; he hadn't considered it might be a sensitive or taboo topic. But then, Seraih was the one who brought it up in the first place. Girls were weird.

She stood up, then, producing a sleek, brown, leather vest and draping it over her left forearm as she spoke. "It was rather impulsive of me, I must say." She crossed the room and came to stand in front of Ronon. "One of our regular customers, Ryus Clasel, took more than a casual interest in me."

Nodding at Ronon's chest, she informed him, "You'll need to remove your shirt to try this on properly."

As he removed the garment, Ronon saw Seraih's eyes widen slightly in what was either bald appreciation of his muscular physique or surprise at the handful of scars that marred his otherwise flawless upper-body. However, the renewed flush in her cheeks and the dilation of her pupils confirmed the former. She recovered quickly, though, and continued, "My aunt was no help, for she only encouraged his advances towards me."

Ronon's brow crinkled at this. "Trying to marry you off?"

"Yes, most definitely," she confirmed with a sigh. Ronon allowed her to take his shirt from his hand and watched with interest as she carefully folded it up and placed it on a nearby stool. "I suppose I can't really blame her. He was not a terribly unpleasant man, and he makes a decent living. He's a bit older than I'd like, and, well," she shrugged as she tried to find the right words to explain her lack of attraction to the man. "It seemed that he was most interested to gain nothing more than a pretty, young prize who could bare him lots of fat, healthy babes."

"And he's short," she added, as she slid one sleeve onto Ronon's arm.

At that Ronon turned his head to to see the corner of her mouth twitch, as her blue eyes twinkled. She lost the battle and eventually let out a amused laugh. He chuckled as well, as he slid his shoulder into the other sleeve of the vest. He nearly shivered as her slim fingers grazed the back of his shoulder. He still wasn't used to being so close to another person.

"However, he would always comment on how lovely my hair was. I'm positive he smelled it a few times when I wasn't looking. I mean, ancestors, it was down to my waist practically, and I suppose I did take rather good care of it," She shrugged at the memory. "He said he liked my eyes as well. I wasn't about to dash them out, so I decided to cut my hair."

_Well, that's one way to test a guy's intentions_, Ronon thought. He lifted his right arm as she made to tighten the laces adorning the side of the vest. "My poor aunt. . .she nearly joined the ancestors herself when she saw what I had done."

"I'll bet," Ronon smirked.

There was something strange, yet decidedly refreshing about this young woman with eyes the color of a clear summer sky.

TBC.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: Her name is pronounced sə'rī.

Once again, I've created a monster. I have no idea where this story will end, but I will continue it as the spirit moves me, as I really enjoy writing Ronon's encounters with Seraih. Check my livejournal (link's in my profile) for a drawing of Seraih, tagged "seraih." I have an idea that takes this story down the Ronon/Keller road. Eventually. As always, your thoughts/crits/comments are appreciated and expected. :)

Thanks again to **journeyman07** for the suggestions that made this story more coherent. :)


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